


Bee Culture And Devotion

by jambal



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Apiology, Bees & Beekeeping, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Reading, Sherlock-centric, Sporadic thoughts, This is bee sex I'm not joking it really is sex and bees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jambal/pseuds/jambal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is reading about Bees and Beekeeping; an encounter with John recalls on some of what he has read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bee Culture And Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> This was a weird fantasy of mine. I adore Beelock. 
> 
> All inaccuracies are my own.
> 
> The bee facts and tidbits come from "Apiology: Lectures" by Tim Vot and general sporadic readings and googlings of "bees and beekeeping"
> 
> Enjoy!

He's not completely out of your scope. He has been on the brink of your peripheral vision for over an hour. You'll vaguely register faint sounds of tea making and utterances which carry no meaning. He is here and has been here and yet your mind is processing something he cannot comprehend; or perhaps he can?

You have never mentioned it before.

He'll stay and just before he makes to retire to bed, you utter a medley of sounds. ' _The activities of a colony vary with the seasons. The young bees survive. The old ones gradually die.'_ They're supposed to be earth shatteringly profound. They're supposed to make him gasp and proclaim with wonder.

However, he'll not understand. He will gaze at you with interest, but with a film of indifference covering his eyes. He'll question those words regardless and remind you that you haven't spoken for hours. That he can't bloody well listen to you all of the time. That he does leave the flat without you from time to time. That he wishes he could see inside your frustrating brain. 

It's all transport until he reaches out his hand as an invitation. You take it without hesitation.

_The period from September to December might be considered the beginning of a new year for a colony of honey bees. In the autumn a reduction in the amounts of nectar and pollen coming into the hive causes reduced rearing and diminishing population_

Your hand fits his. It's incomprehensible, most of the time. The simple fact that you fit with him, so wonderfully. You have never felt that complete with anyone and you're drawn to him. Completely and irrevocably, forever. Transport. These thoughts are more frequent. Not unwelcome, but much more frequent. He couldn't possibly imagine the impact he has had on that mind of yours. He couldn't comprehend it because you haven't fully comprehended it. You haven't fully grasped the magnitude of this partnership, but you will. And it will be too late. 

You shake off this train of thought, it could rumble through your attic for an eternity and you wouldn't halt it, because every thought of John Watson is worth your attention. He closes the distance between you both. His body is flush against yours and his breath is but a whisper against your neck. He's always careful at the beginning. He seems to always give you a chance to run or make an excuse and turn away. You have never denied him. You never will. You just swallow hard and meet him in the middle, your lips crashing together and then parting softly. You press in closer together and your breaths are indistinguishable as you suck and rely on each others oxygen. 

_As temperatures drop, the bees draw closer together to conserve heat. An extremely prolonged cold spell can prohibit cluster movement, and the bees may starve to death only inches away from honey_

He slides his fingers into your hair and deepens the kiss as your lips part, emitting a quiet gasp. It escapes as a low, subdued moan. Your hands are hovering over his hips and then move to grasp at his neck. It's awkward, but it works. He moans as your grip tightens and you trace soothing circles across his flesh. He pulls you closer, tugging lightly at the smaller hairs at the nape of your neck. You moan directly into his mouth and he steals the breath as his own, gulping down the air as if he still cannot quite believe your body can perform the miraculous action.

_Communication, complex nest construction, environmental control, defence, and division of the labor are just some of the behaviours that honey bees have developed to exist successfully in social colonies_

You break apart with a gasp and your foreheads meet. Your breathing is a hurricane in the silence of the room. You daren't open your eyes. You need to finish this. Your mind is racing and his fingers are scorching against your skin. You need - You sigh and your eyelids flutter as his hands begin a journey and rest on your hips. He pulls you close. You open your eyes and he's staring at you. He licks his lips and your heart beats in tandem with each dart of his pink tongue.

_Honey bees are social insects, which means that they live together. Social insects are highly evolved insects that engage in a variety of complex tasks not practiced by the multitude of solitary insects. These fascinating behaviours make social insects in general, and honey bees in particular, among the most fascinating creatures on earth_

And he is infinitely fascinating. His eyes are an anchor and you're thankful to be saved from the vastness of the ocean. You can feel his heat pressed against you and you're grateful for the reassurance. You rotate your hips slightly and his eyes widen before fluttering closed as you pass him again on the return. 

"I need-" 

You know what you need. He needs it, too. You have never felt this helpless, this completely controlled by the throbbing sensation in your briefs. His eyes open again and the heat has simmered down to a warm glow as concern overwhelms his features. There's disappointment there and he opens and closes his mouth twice before speaking.

"We don't have to," he says "Have you, ever?"

He places a light kiss below your ear and you swallow, hard. His breath hitches and you can feel his lips tremble as he places another kiss delicately below your ear. Those words carry a magnitude of meaning. Have you, ever? You have, in theory. The logistics are familiar and not all unpleasant. It's not what he's asking, though. He wants to know have you ever done  _this_  before. He wants to know have you ever given yourself completely and utterly to someone else. He wants to know if he is the first. 

"No. Does it even matter?"

He looks up at you and the corners of his mouth quirk up in an almost smile. 

_Although drones perform no useful work for the hive, their presence is believed to be important for normal colony functionality_

"Of course not."

You nod slightly and his arms tighten around you. His face burrows into your neck and he kisses and sucks lightly down your throat.

"Honesty?"

The word is almost foreign as it leaves your mouth. 

"Yes, Sherlock. Honesty."

"Yes," you say simply. And you pull him down the hall to your bedroom.

_Drones have no stinger, pollen baskets, or wax glands. Their main function is to fertilise the virgin queen during her mating flight. Drones become sexually mature about a week after emerging and die instantly upon mating_

Words are dying on your lips as he kisses your neck and you're fumbling to remove his shirt. You're shaking as each button opened reveals a sacred sliver of his naked torso. You slip the shirt off his shoulders and he releases you long enough to unbutton his fly and step out of his jeans. He stands in front of you, his breathing is more like gasps and he's so, incredibly hard. Your eyes pull away from his crotch and your gazes lock. He doesn't move. He waits.

_Workers have specialised structures, such as brood food glands, scent glands, wax glands, and pollen baskets, which allow them to perform all the labours of the hive_

You begin to unbutton your own shirt. Your gazes never wavering. When your shirt falls to the floor he bends down to lift it and then throws it across the room. You're just about to unbutton your trousers when he's suddenly pressed against you. His tongue and lips begin to map your chest and you're sure that he shudders when he runs his hands over your bare chest. When he pulls back you nod sharply and he begins to unbutton your trousers. Your gaze is strong and unmoving. He begins to pull your trousers down and follows them down to the floor. You step out of each leg and he runs his hands over your thighs. His face is mere centimetres from your erection and you can feel his breath through the barrier of soft cotton.

_They clean and polish the cells, feed the brood, care for the queen, remove debris, handle incoming nectar, build beeswax combs, guard the entrance, and air-condition and ventilate the hive during their initial few weeks as adults_

You step back and fall, sitting on the edge of the bed. He follows and the tint of rose across his cheeks runs down his neck and spreads across his chest. You follow the soft pink hue - a strong hand covering you bulldozes you from your thoughts and you moan as he feels you through your briefs. 

_Later as field bees they forage for nectar, pollen, water, and propolis_

"John-"

He pulls down your boxers from the waistband and you vaguely recall moving your hips to accommodate him.

_All three types of adult honey bees pass through three developmental stages before emerging as adults_

"John - please-"

He places light kisses over your thighs and spreads your legs apart. His face burrows deeper and you can feel him inhale and shudder against you. Your left hand finds its way on top of his head; you don't tug or pull, it simply rests there. Your right hand is on his shoulder and you can trace his scar there and it's a relief amidst the different sensations.

_Egg, larva, and pupa. The three stages are collectively labeled brood_

His tongue licks delicately at your perineum, soothing you with his tongue. Your hips twitch reflexively in time with his breaths. He licks a long strip up your shaft and the sensation, the heat, it's too much and yet you need more. You need something; but the words, they're not there. Nothing is there. You cannot think. You cannot finish.

_During the early summer, the colony reaches its peak population and concentrates on the collection of nectar and pollen and the storage of honey for the coming winter_

His mouth seals around the head of your cock and your hips buck instinctively. He gasps around you, releasing you with an obscene  _pop_.

"John - I'm sorry - I"

He pulls away. His eyes are bright and his lips are red, saliva and your own pre-come coating them, they glisten as the distant outside light catches them. He doesn't say anything. He sits back on his heels and in an almost instant he has pushed you back on the bed and is straddling your thighs. Your erections are trapped against each other. You moan directly into his ear. Parting your legs, you allow him to settle in between and he takes you both into his hands. You open your mouth to protest but he's already working you both together and the feeling of silky steel against silky steel, rubbing together as he works your foreskin against his own. There's friction and there's an intense heat. You're writhing beneath him and he has fallen over you, his damp forehead pressed against your neck. It is all extremely intimate and raw and you never realised it could be quite like this. This intense and this addictive.

_After reproduction, all colony activity is geared toward winter survival. Summer is the time for storage of surplus food supplies_

His breathing is ragged against your neck and you're matching him. 

"Sherlock, I'm - going to-"

You close your eyes tight and your legs tighten around him, enclosing him for as long as he will have you. He shudders against you and his chest is heaving and heaving as he spills over you. Quenching something. Your eyes open and you're gasping too, your body stiffens and then you're coming, you're shaking and you can feel his hands coaxing you through your orgasm. You clutch onto him, your nails digging into his arms, tears are falling back into your eyes. You shake into oblivion and the force of it, it takes the breath from your lungs.

_It is during the summer that stores are accumulated for winter. If enough honey is stored, then the beekeeper can remove a portion and still leave ample for colony survival_

When you open your eyes he is lying on his side beside you, he's staring at you. You turn over and he leans in, pausing before placing a light kiss on your lips. His hand reaches up to your cheek and he wipes softly. Your eyes flutter closed again and you reach your hand up and take his, leading it towards your mouth, where you place an open mouthed kiss in the centre of his palm.

"I want you to know-"

He's staring at you, his eyes are bright and his face has settled into a contented smile. He looks happy.

"Yes?"

His eyes glitter and his skin looks golden in the darkness.

Golden, fluid, delicious and yours.

"Honey bees are the most fascinating and incredible of creatures."


End file.
